Today was picture day, and my fourth child has the same teacher as my oldest did that year. She's been sending out reminders for the past week, and she made a point to hand me the sheet from the photography company. Maybe she remembers Picture Day five years ago, too.
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| My boy today on Picture Day! |
Thinking back on that day makes me tear up. It takes me to a hard place in my life, a time when I felt overwhelmed and confused. I had a hard time keeping up with a 4 year old, 2 year old and 2 month old, and I couldn't quite tell why. I kept remembering what my mom had told me: after 3 kids, it wasn't so bad. But, right then, it was BAD!
My husband remembers that time, too. He remembers sitting at the dinner table wondering how long it would take until I burst into tears. Would it be a child refusing to eat that set me off? Or would it be a bill coming in the mail?
I was fortunate enough to have someone who cares about me step in. She gently suggested that maybe I had postpartum depression. At her urging, I went to my doctor and got the help I needed.
I'm writing today for two reasons. One is that I think many of us are afraid to talk about our mental health, fearful that it is a sign of weakness. After I was diagnosed and I garnered the courage to tell a few of my friends, I found out that some of them had also suffered with depression. Having someone to talk to who could understand what I was going through really helped me. I think it can help many of us. (This is NOT to take away from a trained counselor, though! Professional therapists have an important role and are trained to help in these times.)
I'm also writing today to help me remember. Some days I forget what it was like in that place I lived five years ago. When I forget, I also may forget to have compassion for someone else who forgot Picture Day or their husband's Work Dinner or to take their child to swimming lessons. I want to remember that day so I can be the friend who is there to listen and offer support.
